Comparison is the thief of Joy

Comparison is the thief of joy.  -- Theodore Roosevelt

I ran across this quote on Pinterest the other day and it has stuck with me.  I think about it every day.  I think about how my habit of comparing myself to others has completely stolen my joy.  It resonated with me so much it followed me into my Bible reading and prayer time.  I found scriptures in Exodus (of all places) which spoke to me the importance of being me and not imitating someone else. 

There is a gal I know.  She shall be called Mallory.  Mostly because I don't know a Mallory in real life and I like that name. Also I don't need the real "Mallory" to know about my girl crush and my longings to be like her because it would probably creep her out...

Anyhow...

Mallory is perfect.  She is gorgeous.  She is skinny.  She has an impeccable wardrobe.  Her makeup is flawless.  Her hair is always perfectly styled.  Everyone loves her.  Everyone wants to be her friend.  She has mad skills and talents that people PAY her to perform.  From where I am looking, Mallory is the person to be. 

So much time was spent by me telling my mirror why Mallory is so great and why I am so...not.  Why should I have been surprised when my joy was nowhere to be found? 

My newest goal is to be the best ME I can be.  The world doesn't need another Mallory.  Mallory is busy being the best Mallory she can be.  The last thing the world needs is a cheap imitation of Mallory.  Maybe, just maybe, what the world needs is a genuine Deborah.  So what if the real genuine Deborah is 40 (alright...45) pounds heavier than Mallory.  So what if Deborah doesn't have the same skill set (or any in particular that I can think of right now...).  I was created by God to be me!  Mallory was created by God to be Mallory!  What a boring world we would live in if we were all created to be the same! 

I am currently in the recovery phase.  As I read the Word and spend time in His presence, I ask the Lord to show me His purpose for my life.  For Him to shed light on my specific skill set.  For Him to remind me what is so great about Deborah.  What has He created for me to do that Mallory can not do?  I ask Him to remind me that He is jealous for me!  Exodus 34:14 says, "You must worship no other gods, for the Lord, whose very name is Jealous, is a God who is jealous about his relationship with you."  (emphasis mine). 

As I was reading my women of the Bible devotional, I ran across a story about Leah and Rachel.  I don't know that the Bible ever clearly dictates that Rachel was beautiful and Leah was not.  What I do know is that Jacob found Rachel more beautiful and was tricked into marrying Leah first.  How distraught Leah must have felt!  How she must have compared herself to her little sister!  How her joy must have been stolen because of that comparison.  The devotional pointed out this one thing:  God chose to send his son through the Tribe of Judah.  Judah was the youngest of Leah's sons.  Leah may not have been the more beautiful sister, but she had the distinct privilege (although she wouldn't have known) of giving birth to Judah through whom God's own son would come to this Earth.  Could God still have accomplished his purpose and sent His son another way? Sure; but He chose to use Leah's kin.  Although she viewed herself as ugly and unloved...as useless...she was a vital part of God's plan for salvation.

Comparison is a mental competition.  Although competition can be a good thing which pushes us to strive for excellence, it becomes destructive when spurred by jealousy.  My obsession with Mallory hasn't been based on learning beauty secrets or bettering myself.  It has been based on jealousy, incompetence, and self-loathing.  (I need help huh??) 

I have asked myself and I have focused some of my prayer time on this one question: What has God specially gifted me to do?  In Exodus, when Moses is receiving the instructions for building the tabernacle he names one man, Bezalel.  Bezalel was specially gifted in craftsmanship.  This one man was to be in charge of all the minute details of the tabernacle down to hammering pure gold to form the lampstand with the almond blossoms and the cherubim for the ark of the covenant.  What a skill!  Exodus 35: 30-33 says: "The Lord has specifically chosen Bezalel son of Uri, grandson of Hur, of the tribe of Judah.  The Lord has filled Bezalel with the Spirit of God, giving him great wisdom, ability, and expertise in all kinds of crafts. He is a master craftsman, expert in working with gold, silver, and bronze.  He is skilled in engraving and mounting gemstones and in carving wood. He is a master at every craft."  I wonder if Bezalel ever sold himself short.  I wonder if he thought, "I'm not a great shephard, but I sure can hammer gold and carve wood.  How will I ever be able to contribute to my people?" 

I've got to stop selling myself short.  I may be 30 pounds overweight.  I may never be as beautiful as Mallory.  I may never be able to put an outfit together like Mallory...but I'm also not worthless. God has a plan for my life.  His plan is beautiful.



No more comparisons.  I chose Joy.

So sore!

Today my abs, legs, shoulders and back hurt.  It's a good pain for the most part. 

Unfortunately, there is pain elsewhere also. From the bike. This is not a good pain.  They should really do something about the seats on those things...or I should invest in some padded biking shorts/pants.

Ouch!

I said I would

8:07 : The kids are knocking on my door.  They are up and ready for breakfast.  I am late.  But only by like 7 minutes so surely that counts for something right? 

8:55 : We are jumping in the car as I am turning Zac's sleeves right side out in his jacket so he can get it on.  His shoes are in the front seat...school starts at 8:55 and we are late!

9:10 : Well, crud, I forgot to eat breakfast and how am I going to take a cycling class on an empty stomach?

9:15 : Yes, I'd like a Jr. Breakfast Burrito please.  $1.09? Ok. Thank you.

9:20 : Picked up my cycling pass (#13) and took Zac to the child care.

9:25 :  Pulled out a spin bike and watched everyone else so I didn't do anything stupid. 

SEE, I TOLD YOU I WOULD GO!

9:30 : Class starts

9:35 : I am dying.

9:40 : Why didn't I put my hair up?

10:00 : I hope no one can see the hole in my pants through the window.  I wore black panties under my black pants because I knew there was a hole, but I love them and the trash is not an option.

10:15 : What time is it?  Is this ever-lovin class over yet??  

10:25 : That was pretty fun, I'm covered in sweat and it was so much better than running.  Think I'll come next time.

10:27 : While putting my bike away, I run it into another bike and knock two knobs off the bottom...you can't win them all.  

11:25 : Blogging and wishing for a nap.  Spin class is challenging!!

Confession: I'm a chicken

One of my goals for 2013 is to workout at least 3 times per week.  I made the goal 3 because I want to go more, but I don't want to feel like a failure if I don't.  What this says about me is two fold.  First, I don't like/want to fail.  Second, I fail at things a lot...which reinforces my need to make my goals not too lofty.

The local YMCA is a wonderful place.  I love it there and they didn't pay me to say that because only 15 people follow my blog. 

They have a Mat Pilates class at 9:30 on Wednesdays which is perfect for a stay at home mom with a child who starts school at 8:55.  This Wednesday, I got up and got dressed for pilates.  Everything was going well until I decided not to tell my son to get dressed, took my daughter to school and proceeded to come home and play Candy Crush Saga for an hour. 

Why?

Because I am a chicken. 

Who wants to go to a pilates class by themselves when they have never been before?  What if I do a pose wrong.  What if my booty is supposed to be down but it is instead up?  What if I fall?  What if I look like a fool.  You may call those excuses and you would be right.  But it doesn't change the fact that I am TERRIFIED to go to this class alone!

Thursday mornings they have a cycling class.  I've always wanted to take a cycling class.  For three weeks I have talked about taking a cycling class.  I have not gone.

Why?

Because I AM A CHICKEN!

How on earth can you manage to make a fool of yourself in a cycling class?  I have no idea, but if I go this week, I'll let you know.  Because I am convinced if there is a way to make a fool of yourself in a cycling class, I will figure it out.

I pledge to all 15 of you out there that this week I  WILL go to one of these classes.  I will make the decision, I will make my son get dressed and I will drag my booty to one of these two classes and then I will report back to you.  Candy Crush Saga be darned...

I don't want to won't be a chicken anymore...

Starting my journey...again.

I've been gone a while...maybe you noticed? 

One of my goals (because resolutions are made to be broken...am I right?) for 2013 was to redesign my blog and post at least three times a month.  Let's just say, as lofty as that doesn't sound, it might be one I struggle most with completing!

I'll start at the very beginning. (I almost just broke into Do-Re-Mi from Sound of Music) 

Ok, not the very beginning...but still.

I met my husband Matt, in college in 1999.  He had a girlfriend. I had a boyfriend. We were just friends.  We met in the cafeteria the first day of school.  His roommate was in English with my very outgoing best friend (who became my best friend the day we met on move-in day and remains my best friend to this day) so we sat with them.  A year and a half later, after both our relationships had ended I ran into him at the mall and before we knew it we were back at school, dating each other exclusively (which was not the plan folks...I was in love with and nearly stalking another gorgeous guy at college...I found his parents address and mailed him a Christmas card with an alien on it that said, "Take me to your mistletoe"...I was slightly crazy about him) and talking about getting married. 


On August 9th, 2003 I married Matt.  We had a gorgeous wedding and I wore a dress that I paid WAY too much for all because the lady at the bridal shop said the name Audrey Hepburn when I tried it on.  I was tan and I weighted a whopping 140 pounds.  I wasn't a stick, but I was a dancer for most of my life and I had been working out at the gym...long story short, I looked good.  See?...

6 month later we were pregnant.  9 months later I had gained a breathtakingly beautiful daughter, Mady,

along with 50 pounds.  (Ya'll I ate my weight in pistachios and drank entirely too much Coca-Cola Classic.  Don't do that!)  I lost all of about 13 pounds in the next 2 1/2 years...and then found out I was pregnant with #2.  I was much more careful the 2nd time around and only gained 28 pounds (plus a very hungry and extremely handsome son, Zac.) 

I quickly lost the 28 pounds plus another 12.  I was so excited to finally have lost some weight, but I was still 22 pounds heavier than I was when I got married. 

Fast forward 5 years...Nothing has changed, except my babies aren't babies anymore.

 I have started and stopped numerous exercise programs and I always end up back in the mid 160's.  It's time for a change. So here it is, 2013.  I have an 8 year old and an almost 5 year old.  I am going back to school to pursue the Dental Hygiene degree I wanted since 1st grade but gave up on halfway through college and changed my major to Social Work.  (Don't do that either!!)  I weigh 168 pounds (last time I checked which was yesterday). 

Today is Thursday, which means it is dancing day.  I teach 3 year olds ballet from 4:30 to 5:30 and then 1st and 2nd graders from 5:30 to 6:30.  Dinner on Thursdays is a beast (and not in a good way).  Tonight is baked potatoes, nothing special.  But I did find a recipe on Pinterest for some amazing baked potatoes in the crock pot.
 http://realmomkitchen.com/7995/crock-pot-baked-potatoes/

Quick and easy...my kind of Thursday meal!

Life's a journey, feel free to join me and cheer me on along the way!

Till next time,

Deborah

Saddest thing ever...

Zac was very sleepy, it was after 11pm and he should not have still been up. As we were driving home he burst into tears. Sobbing. Tears streaming down his pitiful face.

"What will I do?...(Sob, sob) If I can't take my trains to Heaven?...(more sobbing) What if I can't play with my trains in Heaven?"

Mr. Sandman

Remember the old cartoons where Mr. Sandman comes with his wheelbarrow full of sand and a shovel and he shovels heaps of sand into the sleepy cartoon characters eyes? I always thought that was funny, I didn't really understand especially not as a child. Turns out Mr. Sandman is extremely accurate...at least according to Zac. We were watching Elf and he started to fall asleep. I asked Zac if he was sleepy to which he responded (in a veerrryyy sleepy voice), "My eyes feel like they have dust in them." I waited a while until I thought he was asleep and told my husband what Zac had said. Zac, who was apparently not yet asleep, heard me and said, "When I close my eyes I just can't get them open." Then proceeded to pass out.